


Sharp Relief

by MsTrick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Kink, Coming In Pants, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Does it count as self-harm if someone else does it for you?, M/M, Masochism, Self-Harm, bloody76week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 00:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21027419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTrick/pseuds/MsTrick
Summary: Reaper cocked his head. Jack could snap those rope bindings with a bit of effort. That gaudy jacket was more armor than it seemed, had taken the brunt of their blows, and that visor and mask were also reinforced, had guarded his face well. The beating the Talon grunts gave him was already fading, the bruises and cuts washing off like paint stains.Poor Jack, Gabriel crooned. They barely broke skin, didn’t they?





	Sharp Relief

**Author's Note:**

> One of my contributions to #bloody76week! ヽ(*＾ω＾*)ﾉ This was written for the prompt: Hero/Monster.

# # #

Reaper stared through the two-way mirror of the interrogation room, as motionless as their prisoner. Slumped in a metal chair with his hands bound behind his back, Soldier: 76 appeared the picture of defeat.

Gabriel knew better.

The leader of the squad that dragged him in filled the observation room with self-congratulatory yapping, recounting how their assault units battered the vigilante into submission until he was barely clinging to consciousness.

Had Soldier: 76 been a normal human, that would undoubtedly be true. Reaper cocked his head. Jack could snap those rope bindings with a bit of effort. That gaudy jacket was more armor than it seemed, had taken the brunt of their blows, and that visor and mask were also reinforced, had guarded his face well. The beating the Talon grunts gave him was already fading, the bruises and cuts washing off like paint stains.

_Poor Jack,_ Gabriel crooned. _They barely broke skin, didn’t they? _

Reaper dismissed the squad leader, who spluttered, on the precipice of demanding greater thanks for capturing one of the biggest thorns in Talon’s side. It would never occur to him that he’d given Soldier: 76 exactly what he’d wanted.

Sombra agreed to tamper with the recording when Reaper told her she could keep it as blackmail. She already had so much dirt on him, a few more clods weren’t going to make much of a difference.

The air in the interrogation room was chilly. Soldier: 76 kept his eyes closed as Reaper removed the visor and mask, tossed them onto the table and punched him across the face.

The spiked gauntlet split his cheek. He grunted and spat blood when he hit the floor, still tied to the chair. Reaper’s boot crashed into his solar plexus – _there’s at least three cracked ribs for you, Jackie_ – and he coughed, nearly heaved.

It was only when that boot wedged under his cheek that those blue eyes opened to look up at his tormenter-savior. There was a plea in them. And hunger. Familiar, monstrous hunger.

_I know,_ Gabriel thought darkly.

Reaper also dragged his feet in engagements, let enemies get hits in, failed to wraith out of the way of obvious projectiles. Doomfist sneered about his age and inability and laziness. Moira delighted in the opportunity to watch his body knit itself back together. Widowmaker’s apathy fractured to reveal a hint of irritation that he was affecting her mission stats. Sombra frowned over his combat record but declined to ask outright why he was throwing fights. He wondered if she’d reach the right conclusion after this little episode. Sigma already had.

He bent down and hauled Jack back up with a crushing grip on his throat. The chair legs screeched as they returned upright. Reaper hooked his knife-sharp claws into the neck of the black kevlar shirt and carved downwards, tearing through material and skin.

Jack grit his teeth as though to bear the pain, but Gabriel saw the shudder that ran through him. The relief.

_You always did prefer lacerations._

Soldier: 76 pestered and hindered Talon not just out of noble vengeance, but also because he couldn't stop himself from running towards the battleground with the most bullets. Because of that yearning to be bruised and bloodied, to drift away on the syrupy sting of wounds closing and the delicious ache of muscles re-solidifying.

That hunger was Gabriel's monster, too.

It had dogged them throughout peacetime. Designed for the frontlines, their offices felt claustrophobic as cages. Sometimes months went by without a risky mission and their very teeth would itch. People took their bludgeoning of each other in the gym to be rivalry, rage, resentment.

It wasn’t the pain they were after; it was the euphoric high of healing. They were just trying to soothe the monsters under their skin, their immune systems frothing for a challenge, hungry for the release that came with being well used. Some days, the burn of bones soldering themselves back together, the menthol chill of skin resealing itself or the muddy gratification of a perforated organ returning to brand new was the only thing that made them feel more human than hero.

If somewhere along the line they started also welcoming the pain as a signifier of their humanity, well, they could blame that on crossed wires.

Jack’s shredded shirt fell open, exposing his muscular chest and stomach decorated with a variety of scars. The grisly slices inflicted from the impromptu stripping had already begun lightening to mere scratches. Gabriel added more, dragging his claws down the side of Jack’s neck, leaving gory welts in his wake, like lines of sand in a zen garden. When he clawed over the rib cage, the steel tips snagged on bone.

Jack strained against the ropes binding his wrists, arching into Gabriel’s hold even though he should have been flinching away.

_You’re never not going to need me, boy scout. _

Gabriel didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to. Noises, low and breathy and needy, rumbled out of Jack’s throat.

Sure, they could always shoot themselves in the thigh or something, but that would mean admitting how much power the hunger had over them. They’d had each other ever since the SEP poisoned their DNA with this desire anyway. Never underestimate the value of someone who’ll break your fingers when you need it.

Gabriel settled on Jack’s lap to prevent him from squirming and inhaled the nostalgic smell of musky sweat blended with the rust-bitter tang of blood. The coarse palm of his glove scraped a path down that pale décolletage and over a nipple until he had the pec in his grasp, the nub peeking out between his fingers, dusky pink and stiff with arousal. With a quick crook, Gabriel's talons punctured skin, drawing five fat drops as red as sin, small starbursts of pain.

Jack panted open-mouthed, eyes dark, cheeks and neck flushed.

Gabriel slowly tipped his mask up, revealing his scarred and impermanent face, which he kept uniformly whole through concentration alone. He squeezed more roughly, dug in deeper, and blood dripped hot trails down that well-marked abdomen. A mess of scar white and blush pink and vital red. Like a painting.

Jack watched with lidded eyes, already so fucked out that the sight of Gabriel's tongue running over his abnormally sharp teeth was enough to make his hips twitch forward. His cock throbbed, hard and aching where it was trapped in his pants.

He let out a sharp, ragged groan when Gabriel bowed his head and sucked the oversensitive nipple into his mouth, the fingers parting but not relinquishing their sticky grip. A bloodied clawtip circled the neglected nipple, scratching a ring into the skin before giving it a merciless pinch. He twisted it hard enough to bruise, while keeping the heat of his mouth firmly fixed to the other.

“_Please…_” Jack choked out, shamelessly grinding up into the weight on his lap.

Gabriel peered up at him through thick eyelashes, pupils burning like hot oil, and grinned. His teeth pressed into Jack’s overheated skin, slick with saliva and red with blood, and sank into the tender flesh, the skin splitting as easily as if it were a ripe plum.

With a strangled gasp, Jack’s whole body tightened and jerked. Even through the reinforced fabric of both their trousers, Gabriel could feel the pulses of Jack’s dick, twitching as it pumped out his release.

Reaper spat out the mouthful of blood, but didn’t bother wiping his face before fitting the mask back on. He stalked out of the room without looking back. When the news of Soldier: 76’s escape reached him two hours later, the metallic taste of him still clung to the roof of his mouth.

# # #

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Sharp Relief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477166) by [olive2pod (olive2read)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2pod)


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